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A little while ago, I participated in Wizards of the Coasts’ third Great Designer Search.

Unfortunately, I didn’t do well enough on the multiple-choice test to make it to the third trial, but I thought I’d share my essay, as well as some of my thoughts on Magic. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get another chance to apply for a job there someday.

Introduce yourself and explain why you are a good fit for this internship.

You only get one first impression. On the whole, I’m a positive person. Acquaintances know that I try to see the good in everything, but this is only half of the story. Those who know me recognize that my mantra is always, “This is good, but how can we make it better?”

From a young age, I’ve always been tweaking board games. I was inventing house rules before I knew what house rules were. In middle and high school, you never saw me without a pocket notepad, ready to write down a new idea for a game, a fanfic or an original Magic card.

This carried over into college too, when I earned my BFA in Music Theatre. I loved working in the established shows and, but I still felt to the urge to write my own plays, perpetually asking myself “How can I make this better?”

This is one of the reasons I was drawn to working on roleplaying games, which are inherently malleable. In 2015, I had the pleasure of working with the professional company Evil Hat to create an RPG setting for the Fate system.

Given carte blanche to create whatever I wanted, I drew inspiration from the cartoons of my youth, and created the planetary romance “Masters of Umdaar.” Later, I approached the company with an idea for a second setting; I had been inspired by a small series of filler art from one of their rulebooks. I fleshed out those five pictures into an RPG about a culinary game show in space, “Uranium Chef.” In addition, I have just sold a carnival themed board game to another company.

In my quest to perfect my craft, I have not always been alone. I have extensive experience collaborating with creative teams. For the past ten years, I have worked with the group Tangent Artists, coauthoring three comics: the supernatural adventure “Skeleton Crew,” the comedic fantasy “CRIT!”, and the gag-a-day strip “Donuts for Looking.” Over time, I have learned when to take the lead on a project and when to follow. I know that sometimes you must campaign for your ideas. I also know that you sometimes have to step back, take a deep breath, and set your ideas aside for the good of the project.

In the past, I have worked as a professional actor and a drama teacher. I currently work as a team coach at a call center.

An evergreen mechanic is a keyword mechanic that shows up in (almost) every set. If you had to make an existing keyword mechanic evergreen, which one would you choose and why?

Given the chance, I would remake the mechanic known as flanking into an evergreen keyword for black and blue. If so, I would remove the “blockers with (keyword) are unaffected” clause. I would also change the name to a term, perhaps to “corrupt” or “dominate.” Here is why I think flanking would be a good fit:

Missing Hole – Blue and black is currently lacking a unique keyword ability.

Color Pie Theory – Divorced from the name “flanking,” the flanking mechanic is about making opposing creatures weaker. Thematically, this fits perfectly with black (which is about punishing the weak and sapping the strength of your enemies), and very well with blue (which is happy to transmogrify an opponent into a weaker form).

Enemy Color Pie: Green is the color of brute force. Green creatures overcome obstacles by increasing their own strength (ex. rampage and “new rampage.”) It is appropriate that the blue/black ability have the opposite effect. Similarly, Naya (green, white, and red) are the colors that focus most heavily on small creature tokens, (ex. green elves, white soldiers, and red goblins). Black and blue need a keyword that overcomes tokens without necessarily evading them.

Balance – Flanking can be placed on low-mana creatures without fear of speeding up the format, as the ability only increases the relative power of the creature without dealing additional damage to the defending player.

Record Keeping – Unlike wither and infect, two keywords that also weaken an opposing creature, flanking’s negative modifier only lasts until end of turn; this makes record keeping easier, without Wizards having to make -1/-1 counters evergreen in every set.

Design Space – Like most evergreen keywords, design space for flanking is limited. However, because multiple instances of flanking stack, it is possible to create rarer cards that use flanking in complex ways. For example, imagine a rare demon with an activated ability: “2B: Target creature gains flanking.” Similar, flanking interacts very well with black’s new keyword menace, increasing flanking’s effect across multiple blockers.

If you had to remove evergreen status from a keyword mechanic that is currently evergreen, which one would you remove and why?

If I were to remove evergreen status from a keyword mechanic, I would choose hexproof. Here are my reasons:

With most keywords, a large creature can be dealt with by removal or with creatures. Only two keywords are immune to one of those options: hexproof and indestructible. If you are a player on the receiving end of an immensely powerful creature with either ability, you will likely be frustrated and will be hard-pressed to comeback. Cards with indestructible are rare and have expensive costs, while hexproof is cheaper and more common.

Hexproof is based on the older “shroud,” which affected all players equally. Hexproof is entirely one-sided, which makes the fun one-sided as well.

Whenever hexproof is placed on a card with evasion, such as a creature that is unblockable, it effectively makes the creature irremovable without some time of board wipe or edict effect.

Given the chance, I would replace hexproof with the following: An ability or keyword that reads, “Spells your opponents cast that target [cardname] cost 2 more,” as demonstrated on the cards Elderwood Scion and Icefall Regent. This ability discourages removal without eliminating it completely.

Alternatively, if hexproof were to continue, I’d recommend limiting it in several ways:

Situational hexproof, such as Dragonord Ojutai, which has “has hexproof when untapped,” or Tromokratis with “has hexproof when not attacking or blocking.”

Keep it temporary, such as spells that grant “hexproof until end of turn.”

Make hexproof only apply to permanents of another kind. For example, an equipment that says “equipped creature has hexproof,” or a creature with “non-creature enchantments you control have hexproof.” However, a non-legendary card that grants others hexproof but effects its own creature type, for example an elf that grants other elves hexproof, is too easily abused, as your deck will likely have more than one in the deck.

You’re going to teach Magic to a stranger. What’s your strategy to have the best possible outcome?

The first thing I focus on when teaching a new player is to find a familiar frame of reference. Ideally, I start with a familiar mechanic that the player would recognize. For example, if the player is familiar with Pokemon or Final Fantasy video games, they will understand damage and health. A player that is familiar with the deck builder game Dominion will more readily understand building decks and card costs. I would even draw connections to games that are not board games, such as how the objective of Magic correlates with the dodgeball variant bombardment.

If none of the mechanics seem familiar, I would draw up the flavor to help craft a story. Magic has a strong fantasy theme, which resonates well with any fans of the genre. Most importantly, stories also weave a sequence of cause and effect, and can help cement turn sequence in a way that a grocery list of rules cannot. I would craft a story about how each player is a wizard, pulling upon the raw magic of the wilderness; they use this raw mana to summon loyal minions (which stick around), and fickle sorceries (which are potent but fleeting).

Once the foundation is laid out, I would play several rounds with the opponent with our hands revealed. I would explain what steps I’m taking and why, and make sure that the player is aware of what options are available. I would mostly lead by example, making smart choices; however, to facilitate the learning experience, I will sometimes “accidentally” make a strategically poor move and immediately point out my own mistake, so the player will learn from my errors.

As you can tell, I’m not afraid to let the opponent have a chance of winning. In my experience, if a player’s first exposure to a game is crushing defeat, they are less inclined to try it again.

What is Magic’s greatest strength and why?

I think Magic’s greatest strength is how it lets a player express themself. Because players have a pool of over 15,000 cards to draw upon, it is possible for a player to create a deck that is utterly unique to them.

Personally, I relate most with the expressive Johnny/Jenny psychographic. I build fun and quirky decks that combine unusual creatures and forgotten cards in a way that my opponents don’t expect (and once in a blue moon, I actually win with them). This is the message I choose to express, and the face I want to show the world when I play.

There are other psychographics, such as Timmy/Tammy and Spike, but I theorize that they also want to express themselves. When a Timmy/Tammy plays a Darksteel Colossus, they are expressing “I am a force to be reckoned with”; that is a message they want to share with their friends. When a Spike creates a tournament deck, they are expressing, “I am a winner.” Even a competitive, no-nonsense Spikes express themselves in which competitive deck format they prefer; a pro-player that builds an aggro deck expresses “I am a daredevil,” while a control player expresses, “I am in control.”

I believe this is also the reason why, in the casual format, Commander has been such a strong hit. Players aren’t just picking a high-value creature to base a deck around; they are picking a named character with a strong identity. When a card is successfully built with the color pie in mind, it carries with it a philosophy that the player can adapt. Do I want to build a Phelddagrif group hug deck and be everyone’s friend, or do I want to play Saskia the Unyielding and openly declare war on a single player? It’s almost akin to roleplaying in that the accomplishments of this commander reflect on the player itself, and in turn the player will build future decks using commanders that they will relate with.

What is Magic’s greatest weakness and why?

I believe that Magic’s greatest weakness is that the required amount of knowledge a new player needs to understand before they can play is staggeringly high. As an experience player, it is easy to forget how much information is not clearly displayed on a card, and how many rules are buried in the rulebook.

For example, take the type line. At Magic’s debut, this line used the phrase “Summon [creature].” While this correctly communicates that this is a spell, I know of confused beginners that assumed they had to pay the casting cost to keep the creature in play, or assumed they could use a counterspell to destroy a summoned creature that has been on the battlefield for several turns. When Wizards changed the type line to “Creature – [type]” with Sixth Edition, it made the permanence a little easier to remember; however, I know of beginners who had trouble realizing that “Creature” was a spell that could be countered.

If the type line for Llanowar Elves accurately reflect everything a new player needs to know, it would have to say, “Spell Permanent Creature – Elf Druid.” As it stands, there are no indicators in cards to define which are permanents and which are spells. Similarly, there are no indicators on sorceries or instants that once they resolve, they do not stay in play- the player must simply memorize that fact, which increases the comprehension complexity.

I personally feel that adding the words “Spell” and “Permanent” to every artifact, enchantment and creature would be a bit unnecessary. However, I can imagine implementing it in other ways, such as a collapsible bar on the type line for beginning Magic Online players. Similarly, I can imagine adding a permanent and a non-permanent symbol to the side of cards; such icons proved very useful in Portal, and similar type icons were used in Future Sight.

What Magic mechanic most deserves a second chance (aka which had the worst first introduction compared to its potential)?

As a fan of both Ravnica and Orzhov, I feel like Haunt has the potential to be a better mechanic. By my analysis, I see the following flaws:

Asymmetrical – Haunt is confusing in that it has two separate triggers: first when the creature or spell enters the battlefield, and again when the creature it haunts dies. A potential solution would be to make both effects triggered at the same time (i.e. when the creature dies).

Flavor – When Haunt is only a creature, the flavor of it dying and haunting another creature is clear. However, haunt also appeared on several sorceries, which is unusual flavor – how can a sorcery haunt you?

Exile – White and black are two colors that deal well with resurrecting creatures from the graveyard, making exiling cards a disadvantage.

Too Symmetrical – By insisting that haunt effects be identical when it triggers both times, you are limiting the place space; the effect must be weak enough as to not be broken, yet strong enough that a player would want it twice. I would recommend that the initial effect and and haunting effect have correlation, but are not slavishly identical.

Solution – Double Faced Cards – The flaws mentioned above can all be solved with double-faced cards; the front side of the card is a creature, which transforms upon death, coming back as an aura. A perfect example of an existing card that does this well is Accursed Witch.

For example, if I were to rewrite Cry of Contrition as a creature, it might be:
Front:
Shriekfang Bat – 2B –Bat – 1/1 – When Shriekfang Bat enters the battlefield, target player discards a card. Haunt – When Shriekfang Bat dies, you may return it to the battlefield transformed attached to target creature.
Back:
Shrieking Agony – Enchantment –Aura – Enchant Creature. When enchanted creature dies, target player discards a card.

Better still, the flipped auras can be extended past “when creature dies” effects. For example, I can easily see a white/black creature with flying and lifelink transform into an aura that grants an enchanted creature flying and lifelink.

Of all the Magic expansions that you’ve played with, pick your favorite and then explain the biggest problem with it.

My favorite expansion I’ve played with is the Ravnica block. It successfully established ten unique factions, each with their own motivations, flavor, tribe, and societal niche. It also marked one of the first times when ally color pairings and enemy color pairings were treated as equals, which added new depths to color pie philosophy.

The biggest problem with Ravnica was the inconsistency of mechanics across the block. Many of the mechanics, like Convoke, Bloodthirst and Dredge, fit both the theme of the guild and the colors it represented beautifully. However, other mechanics were forgettable or poorly matched. Azorious’s mechanic, Forecast, had little connection to their flavor as lawmakers, and was mechanically awkward – it was the only mechanic that required the player use it use during their upkeep; as a player who has instinctively reached for my library after untapping, I’ve missed my window many times. Boros’s keyword Radiance makes slightly more sense thematically, in that it represents how courage can ripple through a militaristic force; however this theme starts breaking down when the mechanic is used on cards that smite your enemies or, because they share a color with your enemy, accidentally punish your own troops. Radiance always focuses on colors, which can be very swingy. The keyword Transmute ties in well with the colors of blue and black, but the mechanic does not tie into the theme of spies and assassins; even the name suggests alchemy, which is associated with the Izzet guild.

As a minor note, many of the above problems were rectified in the Return to Ravnica block. Dimir, Orzhov, Azorious, and Boros, all gained new keyword mechanics that functioned within their color pie and within their theme. However, I always felt it a shame that the new mechanics for Gruul and Rakdos weren’t switched. If Gruul had the ability Unleash, it would have combined well with Bloodthirst, as they both utilize +1/+1 counters. Similarly, Bloodrush synergizes well with Hellbent; an attacking player can use a bloodrush card at instant speed, emptying their hand and making them Hellbent.

Of all the Magic expansions that you’ve played with, pick your least favorite and then explain the best part about it.

Of all the blocks that I’ve played, Mirrodin is my least favorite. With the addition of powerful artifacts, equipment, affinity, and indestructible, the power level of the game skyrocketed. At the time, as a casual player who didn’t use sideboards, I was forced to add extra Disenchants and Shatters into all my decks.

However, the block does include the wonderfully crafted mechanic Sunburst. When I was younger, I purchased a Sunburst deck and was entertained by it, but didn’t realize how brilliant it was until years later. Creating strong yet balanced colorless creatures can be difficult, but Sunburst solves this by giving the players a more difficult, multicolored hoop to jump through. However, the mechanic also gives the player strategic flexibility; if they are in a bind, they can still cast the sunburst card at less than optimal value. Case in point, should I cast my Etched Oracle now for three colors to give myself a 3/3 blocker, or hold out until I have my fourth color to get it’s full worth? This is an example of an elegant mechanic design that is easy to comprehend, but carries great strategic depth.

Sunburst requires players to build balanced multicolored decks with balanced land bases, but doesn’t dictate what colors they must use, making the Sunburst cards a happy addition to most any deck. In my Commander Cube, cards with Sunburst and Converge are a perfect fit, encouraging players to play multicolor decks without dictating their color choices.

I also enjoy the fact that the art team added five suns to each of the cards. This is both a flavorful nod to the storyline, and a subtle reminder to new players on how best to utilize the mechanic.

You have the ability to change any one thing about Magic. What do you change and why?

If could pick one thing I would change about Magic, I would remove all references to a player’s gender from the cards; for example, I would replace all uses of “he or she” or “his or her” with more inclusive phrasing. I have friends of mine who identify as genderless or as non-binary genders, and I feel that it is important that they feel included in the hobby as well. Of course, that is not to say that we should remove all gender from characters; it is perfectly fine for the creative team to create new legendary creatures and planeswalkers that identify as male, female, agender, genderfluid or anything else that feel reflects the story and the community.

As for correcting rules text, there are several alternatives:

Their – Use the term “their,” as in, “each opponent discards a card from their hand.” A decade ago, using the word “their” in the singular would have been confusing to many people, but in the past few years, the singular “their” has gained more usage in the common vernacular. For example, in 2016 the singular “they” was made Word of the Year and added to the AP Stylebook.

B. Their own – If “their” by itself is not clear enough, adding the determiner “own,” as in, “each opponent discards a card from their own hand,” might clarify ownership further still.

No Pronouns – In some cases, the pronoun can be removed entirely, such as, “Target player chooses a creature that player controls.”

I know this issue is more about word choice than about design mechanics, but one of R&D’s principals is, “We are inclusive and respectful.” In order to fully promote an inclusive community, I recommend Wizards phase out any language that dilutes their message.

It is also in keeping with the philosophy of Magic’s original design; Richard Garfield and the other progenitors could have saved space by referring to players solely as “he,” but they went the extra mile to use the phrase “he or she.” It is only fitting that we continue the trend further.

Next month, Tangent Artists will be going back to GenCon. Two years ago, we had a great time showcase our WIP at the First Exposure Playtest hall, and we were so pleased by the experience that we had to sign up with them again. We’ll be getting four slots to show off our two new games, Penny-A-Pitch and Eco-Schism.

When we first went, we had thought of it as a way to showcase and network. If there’s only thing that disappointed us about last First Exposure, it’s that we didn’t really get much exposure; we’re used to conventions, when you spend 8 hours giving 30 second pitches to hundreds of people. Rather, it’s an intense 2-hour session with the exact number of people you need to make the game work. In our hubris, we went to a playtest hall expecting to get very little feedback, only publicity. O, how wrong we were.

As we prepare for our next session, I thought I’d share with you what few nuggets I’ve learned about running playtests (mostly from mistakes).

1. Know Your Pitch

When you sign up with the First Exposure Playtest Hall, they ask you to submit a short pitch and a long pitch. The long pitch is a short paragraph, tiny enough to fit in a tweet. The short pitch is a sentence. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being the “booth babe” at a convention for ten years, it’s streamline your pitch and have it memorized. Most strangers tune you out after less than a minute, so you have only one or two sentences to get them interested; this is called the elevator pitch.

As for our two new games, here’s the two versions:

Penny-a-Pitch – Short: A game of Midway Moguls.
Long: A light worker placement game of Midway Moguls. Mama Maxie is retiring, and whoever buys her Ferris Wheel will literally run the show. Can you sucker enough rubes to make the cash, while still keeping Maxie happy?

Eco-schism – A game of weak links in the Food Chain.
Long Adds: The Alien Mothership is asking your genetics department to rebuild the extinct ecosystem of planet Earth; but you’re not satisfied being just another cog in the machine. Prove that your “improved” fauna can dominate the food chain!

You’ll notice that the short version of Penny-a-Pitch leaves out the “light worker placement” addendum. Why? Because in a one-sentence pitch, any discussion of games and mechanics is irrelevant. You might be able to stick “card” or “board”, but focus on the flavor, not the gears.

2. What’s the Point?

This one was taken from Mark Rosewater’s podcast series, “Ten Things Every Game Needs.” If someone is going to play your game, the most important thing to convey is “how do you win?” Despite the fact that it’s the last thing that occurs in a game, there’s a reason they always stick it near the beginning of a rulebook (for the other reason, see #3.)

Why is this important? Because the playtesters need to be focused on what they are supposed to achieve. It gives them a mission, an objective, and something to be excited about. If the testers are confused about how to win, they’ll fail to see the point in anything else.

Also, if you’re playing with the group, and you’re the only one who knows how to win, you likely will. (See #4).

3. Don’t Frontload the Rules

When playing games on their own, most players don’t read all of the rules until after they’ve started. Similarly, you should not explain 100% of the rules when the game starts; just get them the win condition and enough to get through turn one or two.

4a. Do Play Yourself

Lead by example. Add yourself to the test; you can lead by example, show the rules in action

You can, of course, hover around and try to orchestrate from beyond, but this can come off as bossy. Sure, this frees you up to go around and explain cards that people have in their hands, but if the cards aren’t clear without your explanation, it’s probably not clear enough.

4b. Don’t Play to Win

I remember joining in one designer’s game test, during which the designer blew the other tester and myself out of the water. “Don’t feel bad,” they said with a chuckle after an easy win, “I’ve played it a lot.” I can’t tell you how much of a turn-off it was. I didn’t want to play again or buy it, I just felt frustrated.

If the game is composed of several rounds (like poker), it’s definitely fine to win a hand or two to show the other players how it’s done. However, your role as the play test leader is this: to explore the frontiers.

When a new option is made available, if other people aren’t exploring it, do it yourself. If everybody is choosing option A, try option B; even if B is a bad choice, they’ll learn from your mistake what the pros and cons are. They’ll see, “it’s bad for a player to do X now, but it might be useful to do X when Y is in play.”

Don’t stick with one strategy, take the “sampler” approach; be the jack of all, master of none. That way, if a player spreads around like you, they might tie. If they narrow their energies towards a specific strategy, they have a decent chance of pulling ahead of you; that way, even if they lose the overall game, they’ll feel accomplished that “at least they had more X than you.”

5. Make it Clean!

Try to make the game look as pretty as you can. Start your first few tests one index cards, but then upgrade to something more streamlined.

Cards: this trick I learned from the DC Metro group, “Break My Game” (click the link for their Meet-up page). Type up your cards, print them on simple paper, and add them to card sleeves. To give the cards thickness, add a playing card behind them (you can buy one or two card decks from the dollar store for 99 cents). Voila! Now you have something slick, stiff, and shuffleable! If you can afford card sleeves of different colors, you can easily sort your cards into different deck types without having to print on both sides of the paper.

Also, if you have the time, include art. It doesn’t have to be fancy, either; simple and iconic is easier to print, and easier to keep consistent. I recommend the site game-icons.net, which has thousands of images you can use for your prototypes. All of them are free to use, and come in a default, clean black and white (although you can play with the slider to add color and/or a border).

Hope that’s inspired you a bit for your tests. If you’re going to GenCon, I hope to see you there! Until next time, Game On!

In which Dave gives you a preview of the card game Dystopio, and a strange approach to the creative process.

Let me start, as is befitting a member of the group named “Tangent Artists,” with a little background. I have a friend who’s writes fiction as a hobby. While she publishes a small portion of it, she is less than enthusiastic about the rest… so she DELETES IT. Removes it from her hard-drive and the world, never to return. The very idea of this keeps me up at night. That is an act of heresy on par with wrapping myself in a burning flag while clubbing an orphaned baby seal with a crucifix and cursing at my grandmother. It’s simply not done. I never throw away anything I write: my hard drive contains old ClarisWorks and .txt documents from the dawn of the internet. I have three composition notebooks containing a novel I wrote by hand during NaNoWriMo, which I have yet to transcribe into digital form (I’m holding out for a cheap voice recognition software). I have tiny pocket notepads with the home-made Magic the Gathering card ideas I dreamed of during middle school history classes (Wizards? Call me!). I throw nothing away.

Sadly, “nothing” includes non-literary items too. I’m a terrible packrat, with no sense of organizational skills. I have an orange Home Depot apron that I keep in my closet just in case I need it for a costume someday. I have stacks of Styrofoam packing lying around, in case I want to make scenery for a game I never play anymore with friends who want to play it even less. It may have some advantages (my car always seems to have a silly hat in it, and not by design), but it also makes finding stuff an ordeal.

Flashback a little less than a year ago: Around the same time this blog started up, I started working on a new card game. I was inspired by Stalin’s 5-Year plans; his first five year plan took four years, his second took seven. It reminded me of the Eddie Izzard line about Microsoft:”lt’ll be done by Saturday… Tuesday… next week… We’ll bring it out when we’re *%$#ing ready, right?” To me, there’s something darkly comedic about the whole thing, resulting in a game about players trying to create the most brutal and oppressive regime they could. The working name of it is Dystopio, and we’ve made sure to pepper with allusions to serious works like 1984, A Brave New World, and Fahrenheit 451, as well as pop culture settings like Tank Girl, Judge Dredd, and Death Race 2000. I made spent a weekend making mock-ups on index cards, played it with the Tangent Artists, and took notes on the feedback.

AND THEN I LOST IT.*

Earlier this month, our group was planning to go to Brunswick Games Day, where I had hoped to run a pick-up game of Masters of Umdaar. However, I had also planned to test Dystopio out, but was unable to find the mock-ups.

“Hey, no worries, I’ll just write them down again.”

To my horror, the only notes on my computer were nearly a year old. They had my rough brainstormed ideas, but nothing concrete.

I remembered the basic mechanics: every player has a Plan. It counts down from 5 to 0, going down by one each turn. If it reaches the end and the player possesses the necessary Projekts (one specific one, and one general one), then the player wins. If the player doesn’t possess them, then the Plan fails, and the player has to start at year 5 with a new plan.

Of course, my notes didn’t have the A + B = C information… all I had was my rough list of dystopian themes and several different names for ministries (in honor of George Orwell, the British term “ministry” sounds more imposing than the American “department.”) So, I rewrote them from scratch, brought them to the show, and ran a few games, and got more feedback.

And then I found the old cards.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY

You hear all of the time about editors and English teachers saying, “write it again.” For a packrat like me, that’s harder than it sounds. Our work is our children, and even when trying to write from scratch, I’d intentionally try to make it close to the original as possible. Even in our brains, we are packrats, refusing to throw anything anyway.

Now, I would never advice you intentionally lose your notes. Likewise, I understand that certain projects have a deadline that doesn’t allow you months to forget your previous phrasing; but the end result is fantastic.

Essentially, I now have two complete versions of the game to compare with each other, picking the best of both. It’s like having a co-writer that happens to be you. Unintentionally, I was renaming weaker cards and coming up with odd rules that I wouldn’t have come up with before. Here are some more examples:

When in doubt, it also means that losing a work is not the end of the world. Even if it’s not quite the same, that may be a blessing in disguise. One way or another, that idea is like Minerva, buzzing around in your skull until you let it out.

Happy crafting!

* I lose a lot of stuff. I sadly missed posting last week because I wrote an entire blog post on my laptop and, you guessed it, lost the laptop. It turned up in coworker’s car.